Recurring Nachtmares
by JWood201
Summary: Sometimes when we reach out to someone, they only reach back in our nightmares.


_Musical timeline, not film timeline. In the musical, Elizabeth arrives in Transylvania earlier and is at the exhibition ("Puttin' on the Ritz"), which is where the Creature abducts her._

_Takes place after "Please Don't Touch Me," during and after "Join The Family Business," and directly after "Puttin' on The Ritz."_

**Recurring Nachtmares**

He dreams constantly. The visions descend upon him the moment his head hits the pillow and don't release their hold until the moment he awakens, usually jostled awake by one of the other three living inhabitants of the castle in response to his unintelligible yelling.

He's no longer even aware of the phenomena of falling asleep or waking up. Suddenly, they're just there. His ancestors, his grandfather Victor, more and more of them each time his eyes droop shut. He tries to stay awake, to force himself. He reads, he tries to teach himself how to play Frau Blucher's violin, he plays darts, he even takes up knitting. It only works for so many hours before his body betrays him.

He wanders around the castle during the day, sleep deprived and muttering incoherently, wild hair making him look like the ultimate clichéd mad scientist. Since his very first night in the castle, the visions have been haunting him. He's not even convinced that they're in his mind anymore. He thinks his grandfather's portrait watches him when he passes. He sees shadows dart in front of windows. He hears ghostly moaning echoing along the long stone corridors.

_Join the family business_, they urge him each night. _Make the world afraid_. He refuses, but something inside him admits that it's nice to feel like he belongs somewhere, that people want him to be a part of something. His own fiancée wouldn't even kiss him goodbye at the harbor.

The living have started appearing in his dreams now, joining the hoards of lab-coated dead ancestors and great-great-great-scientist grandfathers who in recent night have begun singing and dancing while pleading their case. His students are there, young and eager and bespectacled, and they grin at him as they clutch their textbooks, urging him to take a chance, to do it for science, to continue his study of the brain in a brand new way. Igor, now with a comically pronounced limp, lurches toward him under the weight of his hump with a doctor's bag overflowing with oversized and terrifyingly rusted unidentifiable tools. Frau Blucher, clutching one of Victor's old shirts to her bosom, begs him not to let her beloved's legacy die. Inga, in the shortest lab coat he's ever seen, perches on his examination table, swinging a stethoscope and beckoning him to her.

But most recently, it was Elizabeth. It was the first time she'd appeared, emerging from the crowd of ancestors like the sun from behind the dreary grey Transylvanian clouds. He's blinded for a moment by the glitter of her jewelry and when he lowers his arms from his face, she's smiling at him, gently, without the pretense and the mask. She's in white, a pure brilliant white that makes the lab coats swirling around them look dingy and grey in comparison.

She begins walking toward him, slowly, and his ancestors follow closely behind, looking worried for the first time that someone may not be on their side. Frederick watches her approach, her slinky white gown swirling around her feet. His ancestors watch him carefully, chanting their mantras.

_Make yourself a monster._

Elizabeth holds out her hand to him and he takes one tentative step forward. Frederick raises his eyes to Elizabeth's face. Her brilliant red hair is the brightest thing in the room and from its waves flows a long white veil. He feels a grin spread across his face.

_And then you'll make his bride._

Their impending wedding – and, if he's honest with himself, their impending wedding night – was what he was looking forward to most before leaving New York for Transylvania. His ancestors are circling them now, chanting in his ear, but Elizabeth doesn't seem to notice.

_Take your knife._

"Fred-dy," she calls, a sing-song lilt in her voice. Frederick quickly closes the distance between them in two steps. "Taffeta, darling!" she says and he skids to a halt right in front of her, his hands an inch from her waist.

_Create a life!_

Frederick throws his arms behind his back and locks his hands together, keeping them safely to himself. She laughs, a light musical laugh that he hasn't heard in years, not the more prevalent biting cackle that explodes from her when she finds herself particularly amusing. His ancestors close in on them, their volume rising.

_Follow in our footsteps and you'll win eternal fame!_

"Oh, Freddy," she says with a pout. Suddenly she winks at him and Frederick's eyes widen. She rarely joked anymore. "This is satin."

_You have no choice. You can't decline._

Elizabeth lays her hand gently on his cheek and he sighs involuntarily. He can't remember the last time she touched him like this. He senses her pulling him toward her and his eyes drift shut.

Just as he feels the tip of Elizabeth's nose touch his, Victor's voice is in his ear. _There's nothing to discuss – you must be one of us._

In an instant, Elizabeth is ripped from him and his eyes snap open. His ancestors grip his arms, dragging him further into the never ending darkness of the castle. His feet scramble for purchase on the stone floors. His family members swirl around him in a sea of ghostly white and he catches a glimpse of his grandfather – as young and robust as in his portrait – walking away from him. Frederick manages to get his feet under him and rights himself, finally seeing the whole picture.

Victor has Elizabeth in his arms. She's looking back at him over his shoulder, green eyes huge with fear, clawing at the purple velvet jacket with her perfect red nails. As he's pulled away, Frederick suddenly wonders, considering his grandfather's reputation, what Victor will do to her. "Stop!" he yells and begins fervently fighting to free himself.

"Freddy!" Elizabeth reaches out to him desperately. Her engagement ring glints in the light and he finds the strength to rip one of his arms away from his ancestors.

"Elizabeth!" He reaches back to her and he suddenly recalls the way he reached over the ship's railing to her as he left New York. She hadn't noticed, too busy reacting to the fawning men on the dock. His last vision of her as the ship carried him away is of her flirting with a total stranger, laying her hand on his cheek, touching him.

As Victor carries her away in her wedding dress, Frederick finally stops struggling against his family. Elizabeth opens her mouth to shout something, but no sound ever emerges. Frederick slowly lowers his arm to his side. He sees Elizabeth's face contort with realization as she reaches toward him with all her might, fingers spread, searching.

"Doctor! Doctor!" He feels a hand touching his face, soft and gentle, slowly stroking his cheek. "Doctor, vake up!" The voice is laced with concern, calling him _Doctor_, not _Freddy_ - as if he were a child.

Frederick opens his eyes and a figure slowly comes into focus, hovering over him. Inga's eyes widen and she lets out a sigh of relief. "Oh, Doctor! You vere having another nachtmare!" Inga peers closely at him. Her brow is furrowed with genuine worry. "Are you alvight?"

Frederick nods slowly. "Yes. Yes, of course." He pushes himself into a sitting position and rubs a hand over his face. "Although I fear they're getting worse."

"Um, Doctor?" Inga fiddles with the edge of her robe, twirling the ribbon around her finger nervously. "Who is Elizabeth?" His head snaps up automatically and Inga takes a small step back. "You vere calling her in your sleep."

"Oh. She's my –." Frederick frowns down at the blankets and then smiles up at his assistant. "No one."

Weeks later, Frederick lies face down on the stage where he and his wondrous Creature had tap-danced themselves silly just moments before. His left cheek is pressed into the floorboards, his right arm bent beneath him. His temple aches where he smacked it against the floor when he fell.

His creation had turned on him. No, he knew he hadn't. It was the fire, the footlight exploded and it startled him. He would never deliberately hurt him, would he? Frederick had taught him how to love – or at least tried to. His brain might be abnormal, but his heart was not.

Nonetheless, Frederick was lying on the stage, the dull throbbing in his head increasing as he becomes more and more conscious. All he hears is his heart beating in his ears. Everything else sounds so far away, muffled as if beneath the waves. The boards beneath his body shake as former potential patrons, local dignitaries, and Frederick's back-up dancers trample each other in their haste to flee.

He feels hands on his back and shoulders and knows that Inga, Igor, and Frau Blucher are hovering over him. He cracks one eye open and tilts his head enough to see the broad back of his Creature walking away from him, heading towards the wings of the stage and then God knows where. He thinks about calling out for someone to stop him, but isn't sure he's capable of making a sound.

Why would he want to leave him? After all he had done for him. He gave him _life_. Is there a greater gift than that? Frederick is not yet a father, but the labor of birthing this Creature had filled him with such pride and fear and confusion that he knew instantly that this was how a father felt and it was exhilarating. The family business was his and it was miraculous.

Perhaps this is another dream.

Frederick forces both eyes open and finally sees the whole picture. The Creature has Elizabeth in his arms. She's looking back at him over his shoulder, green eyes huge with fear. How did that happen? She was out in the audience, wasn't she? Surely she'd be fleeing with the rest of them, eager to save herself and the hell with everyone else. Frederick vaguely wonders what the Creature will do to her.

_Freddy!_

He knows she's yelling his name. He can see her mouth open, her brows furrow, her earrings swing, her shiny red nail polish glint as she claws at the back of the Creature's tuxedo jacket, but he can't hear anything.

Elizabeth reaches out to him desperately, her bracelets rolling across her arm. Her engagement ring catches the stage lights and shines so brightly that Frederick reflexively squeezes his eyes shut again. Muffled sounds creep into his consciousness then – people murmuring above him, screams in the distance, and his name being called, high-pitched and terrified, faintly, fading as it's carried away from him.

If he had only seen the way Elizabeth stood between him and the Creature while Inga, Igor, and Frau Blucher stayed safely behind him, the way she ordered the Creature to leave him alone and the way she called him a "beast" and bravely pummeled him with her small fists, maybe – just maybe – Frederick would reach back to her.

But he didn't, and so he doesn't.


End file.
